


Penalty Killing

by PoolWatcher



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 06:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/684110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoolWatcher/pseuds/PoolWatcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Winchester's debut game for Peoria goes a little rough, thanks to that midget on the other team who keeps hounding him across the ice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Penalty Killing

**Author's Note:**

> Hockey!AU for Dave, because I'm heavily influenced by actually attending sporting events. I have no other excuses, really. Chalk this one under "AUs that Dave will also write for."

Sam took a deep breath, double-checking the straps on his helmet before slipping his gloves on and stepping out onto the ice, stick in hand. He did his best to ignore the flashy lights and blow-up tunnel the home team was using, the way the home crowd was clearly enthusiastic about their team, and the faint boos they got as they skated across the ice to their bench. Sam ignored the announcements of the home team’s starters, choosing instead to skate a few turns of their half of the ice. He caught the gaze of a few of the other team, but just nodded his head in acknowledgement and kept skating.

*****

Sam tended to tower other players, and he knew he didn’t play as roughly as some of the other guys when he checked. Still, though, it threw him off when he was checked sharply into the boards, the puck slipping away from him. Catching his breath, Sam watched the shorter player shoot after the puck. _‘Number 32, huh?’_ Sam thought, skating after him.

******

Number 32 apparently had it out for Sam. The guy was all over him throughout the first period. It seemed like every time Sam turned around, there he was, stick moving quickly around Sam’s legs trying to steal the puck but not trip him, or knocking him into the boards. Sam felt his temper starting to rise as, in the first shift of the 2nd period, he found himself pushed face-first into the glass again.

Fuck it. If this guy was going after him, he was gonna fight back. Sam scrambled after 32, waiting until he had the puck and the knocking him hard into the boards. He shot the shorter player a heated look and was startled to meet bright gold-green eyes behind the visor. The moment broke and both men returned focus to the game.

Sam endured what was really turning into a hard-hitting game with an every-fraying temper until the end of the 3rd period. One last check, right at the buzzer, and Sam couldn’t take it anymore. He dropped his stick, tore off his gloves, and went after the runt.

The first punch was the most satisfying the Sam had ever thrown. Of course, #32 retaliated, and by the time the refs broke them up, Sam could feel his face starting to swell a bit and he was spitting a bit of blood out of his mouth. 32 was sporting what would be a gorgeous black eye, if Sam did say so himself, and a cut on his cheek that was oozing slowly.

******

“Sammy, what the hell were you thinking?” Dean’s first words to him after he exited the locker room made Sam wince, and to cover it he shifted his equipment bag on his shoulder. Dean was standing against the wall, a dark-haired guy in a tan overcoat standing next to him. If Sam were honest with himself, he was asking himself the same question.

“I dunno, Dean.” Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. “He just made me really angry, okay? I’m just glad I was able to hang on until the end of the game.” Dean sighed and opened his mouth to respond, but suddenly overcoat guy was talking.

“Gabriel! Your injuries didn’t look so severe from our place in the stands.” Sam turned and found, of course, gold-green eyes staring up at him from beneath cocked eyebrows. One was starting to purple.

“I’m fine, Cas,” Number 32 - Gabriel - replied, keeping his eyes locked on Sam’s. Sam felt himself starting to blush.

“I’m, uh, I’m sorry about that,” he stuttered out, flashing a quick apologetic smile at Gabriel. The shorter man smirked at him, mouth quirking upwards for a moment.

“No hard feelings, Sasquatch.” Sam raised his own eyebrow at the nickname but let it slide. “Take me out for a drink, though, and we’ll call it even.”


End file.
